Magnets
by Fantony
Summary: The boy he spent the last fifteen years to protect, the son of his first love James Potter, must die, and Snape does not know how to deal with the news. The private lessons he's been asked to give to Harry will wake up old feelings. SNARRY Snape's POV
1. Chapter 1

**Plot:** Yes, I plead guilty. I have done it again. I gave him detention. On his first Hogsmeade Saturday of the year. Yes, I'm that bad. In my defense, I caught the brat red-handed while drawing a caricature of me during yesterday's Defense Against the Dark Arts theory lesson. Snarry. Yaoi.

**Disclaimer**: Snape isn't mine, shame!

**Note**: Well, this is my first HP fic… (yup, that's me trying to find an excuse for the mediocrity of this story! Lol). Apart from that, it is set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, although that doesn't mean it'll follow the book's plot.

_**Please, bear in mind that I'm French, hence the English mistakes! ;-)**_

****************************************************************************

**CHAPTER 1.**

Yes, I plead guilty. I have done it again. I gave him detention. On his first Hogsmeade Saturday of the year. Yes, I am that bad.

In my defense, I caught the brat red-handed while drawing a caricature of me during yesterday's Defense Against the Dark Arts theory lesson. Such an insolent little twit! But it's not exactly big news, is it?

Anyway, he's lucky enough I haven't sent him to the Headmaster straight away. Well, come to think of it, the old bat would have probably found that hideous picture amusing. I sneer and look at the damned drawing again. What's up with my nose? It looks like a parrot's beak! He's nearly as bad at drawing as he is at making potions.

I put it back in my drawer and I begin to mark the pile of papers that was waiting for me on my desk. The one on top of the pile is actually Potter's one. I can't suppress a smirk at the irony. I dip my quill into the inkwell and rub my hands in glee and anticipation.

God, this is even worse than I thought! And there was me thinking it couldn't be worse than his last years potions' papers…

I glance at him and notice he isn't copying anything. Instead, he's staring at the window. Probably thinking of the dunderheads he's proud to call his friends, enjoying themselves in Hogsmeade. He looks so sad I almost feel pity for him. Almost, I said!

"Potter!"

He winces and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose to look at me.

"Don't you have better things to do? If you don't quit staring at that window, you'll spend _all_ your Saturdays here with me!"

I must admit I'm horrified that I am not disgusted by such a perspective.

"This is not fair!" He yells indignantly.

"Oh, really?"

He gulps as I make my way to his table and bend over to glare at him.

"Well, you'll think twice before drawing a picture of me in class!" I smirk.

I turn around, ready to go back to my desk, quite happy that I've made him angry.

"Not my fault if you have no sense of humour, Professor!"

I stop dead in my tracks.

No sense of humour, huh?

"Who do you think you're talking to, Potter? Ten points from Gryffindor. Your insolence really knows no limits! Besides, humour is for idiots. I have much better things to do with my precious time than use my zygomaticus muscle."

"Your what?" He asks, a dumb look on his face.

I sigh and mentally add "Brain-challenged" to the long list of the boy's faults.

"The facial muscle that draws the angle of your mouth upward and outward when you laugh or smile, Potter."

At those words, the brat bursts out laughing and it really gets on my nerves.

"What's so funny about it?" I ask him, losing what little patience I had left.

"With all due respect, Professor, I really doubt you've got such a muscle!" He says, grinning.

I raise an eyebrow.

"And may I ask you why, Potter?"

"Well, I've never seen you smile, let alone laugh! As far as I know, you may very well be toothless, which would explain why you never dare to laugh…"

That's got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life (well, second in fact. First one being Dumbledore asking me to help him "protect Lily's son" some fifteen years ago. The irony!) and I have to bite my lower lip not to laugh, actually. The boy should really get an award for his stupidity. And for his insolence as well! He's even worse than Jam… than his idiot father.

"Enough, Potter!" I yell at him, banging my fist on the table and trying my best to look furious. "This time, you're really spending your next Saturday in detention again! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

He lets out a long sigh and rolls his eyes.

"That's exactly what I was saying, you've got no sense of humour…"

I ignore his remark and go back to my desk, snickering and quite pleased with myself that I've found another excuse to spend some extra time with him.

Merlin's beard! What happened to me? I silently curse myself for being so weak. I am not allowed to think about him that way. I am a teacher, he is a student. I am a responsible adult, he is a disruptive teenager. I am old enough to be his father and, if ever it wasn't enough, he is Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the most famous teenager in the Wizarding World, the one Voldemort is after. I know all that, and yet I can't help it. The boy attracts me like a magnet. Besides, the older he gets, the more he resembles his… Well, never mind…

I look back at his paper on my desk and try to concentrate.

"Professor Snape, are you ok?" I hear him say.

I raise an eyebrow quizzically in his direction.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I don't know… You looked very thoughtful… Almost world-weary…"

And here we are! Another one of his countless faults. The brat always pokes his nose into other people's business!

"Indeed, I am marking your test and it is a total disaster. So how did you expect me to look?" I sneer. "Anyway, I do appreciate your concern, Mister Potter."

He rolls his eyes again and I feel relieved.

An hour or so passes by.

"You may go, now, Potter." I say, breaking the silence.

"But it's not even five!" He protests.

"Am I to believe you enjoy my company so much that you would like to spend the whole evening with me? Then I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you but I have other fish to fry."

He grins.

"See, you can be funny when you try to!" He beams.

What??!

I glare at him reproachfully.

"I wasn't trying anything! Good evening, Mister Potter." I say, looking back at the D.A.D.A papers.

I can still feel his gaze on me and I let out a long sigh.

"What are you waiting for, Potter?"

He is playing nervously with his quill.

"Professor?"

"Hmm…" I mumble, trying to sound annoyed.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry if I have… err… upset you… But it was just a caricature, you know. You actually don't look that bad and your nose isn't that…"

"Potter?" I interrupt him.

"Yes Sir?"

"Go away."

The insolent brat grins again and complies, much to my relief.

Upset me? Who does he think he is? It takes more than that to upset the great wizard I am. I haven't been the slightest bit upset by his stupid drawing.

Alright, alright… Maybe I was a little irritated but… What does he mean 'I don't look that bad'?!

Damn brat.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! _

_I' m not sure yet whether I should continue this or keep it as a one-shot. Well, I'll see! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Note**: Thanks a lot for your reviews! They actually encouraged me to write more. So here's a second chapter! The scene takes place the following Saturday...

_**Please, bear in mind that I'm French, hence the English mistakes! ;-)**_

* * *

**CHAPTER 2.**

2.01pm.

Potter is already one minute late, and I absolutely HATE people who are late.

So here's another reason for me to hate the boy, if I ever needed one.

I tap my fingers nervously on the desk and silently curse the brat.

From the open window of the classroom, I suddenly hear a familiar voice…

I stand up, make my way to the window, and look down. Call that eavesdropping, I don't give a damn.

"Harry, you're gonna be late!"

Miss Granger. Our little know-it-all Mudblood, looking all worried.

"Yeah, Hermione's right, mate! You really should go now, or Snape will hex you!"

I sneer at those words. The younger Weasley boy. A real nuisance, just like all the Weasleys.

And between them, last but not least, Potter.

"Yeah, yeah… I'm going! See you later! Let's meet in front of the library by 5.15pm!"

I'm boiling with anger, but I'm curious to hear what rubbish excuse he's going to come up with. I might as well hex him just like his redhead friend suggests. Probably the most brilliant idea the Weasley boy's ever got, actually. Yes, I'll put him through hell as soon as he enters that room. That'll teach him!

A knock on the door. I glance at the clock. 2.08pm. About time!

"Come in," I growl.

The door opens and the brat appears, grinning from ear to ear. The reasonable part of me wants to slap him for daring to smile, while the insane part of me is once again stricken by the natural beauty of the boy. Oh my! I really shouldn't say things like that!

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape! I'm sorry, I'm late!"

_I'm sorry, I'm late_? Is that all? A confounded rage is brewing within me. Keep control, Severus.

"Thank you for pointing it out, Potter. I hadn't noticed," I say sarcastically. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor."

"BUT WHY?" He protests. "I said I was sorry!"

"Do you really need an explanation?" I sneer. "Your insolence will never cease to amaze me, Potter. And don't even try to protest again, or that'll be more points from Gryffindor." I add spitefully. "Take a seat and open your Advanced-potion making book to page 57, exercise number 3."

Fifteen points from Gryffindor, such a joke! Is that all I am able to? What about my resolution to put him through hell? I am ashamed of my weakness.

He sits down and I take _The secrets of the darkest arts_ out of my satchel. This book used to be housed in the Restricted Section of the library, but Dumbledore has then kept it in his office since a certain Tom Marvolo Riddle stuck his nose in it in the fifties. I've been wanting to read it for ages, but the old bat would never lend it to me. He only agreed recently, when he appointed me as Professor of Defense against the Dark Arts.

I take a deep breath and start to read. Or try to read, more like. I can feel Potter's gaze on me and it gets on my nerves.

"What are you waiting for, Potter? Don't you think you've lost enough time already?"

"I don't have it, Sir," he blurts out.

I raise an eyebrow.

"The book, I mean," he continues.

I glare at him.

"Well, you never told me to take it!" He retorts, indignantly. "Considering you teach Defense against the Dark Arts this year, I've only taken my D.A.D.A book, just like I did last week! Besides, you -"

"Enough!" I cut him off. The little twit has an answer for everything, so annoying! "You're lucky I always have a copy of this book with me," I say, holding it out to him.

"Thank you, Professor."

"Keep your mouth shut, now, Potter. I try to concentrate on my reading!" I snort.

Several minutes have gone by when he suddenly breaks the silence.

"Professor…" He speaks hesitantly.

"Do you have the memory of a goldfish, Potter? I thought I'd told you to shut up a few minutes ago," I say without taking my eyes off my book.

"Yeah, that's right but… I wanted to know…," he mutters.

"Dammit, Potter! Spill it out! I have other fish to fry!"

He gulps nervously.

"Professor, are you mad at me?"

What a stupid question! Who cares if I'm mad at him? I look up and meet his deep green eyes.

"Potter…" I sigh, "I've been mad at you since your first day at Hogwarts some five years ago…"

"Oh…" is the only sound that escapes his mouth.

He tries to concentrate on his paper, but I swear I've seen sadness in his eyes before he looked down.

Merlin's beard… I never knew the boy was so touchy!

"Have I hit a raw nerve, Potter?" I smirk.

He pushes his glasses back to the bridge of his nose and looks daggers at me. It's almost funny.

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?" He seethes.

Now that's interesting… Making him angry is one of the little pleasures of my odd existence.

"Enjoying myself doing what?" I ask, pretending not to know what he means just to annoy him a little bit more.

"Bullying me! You can't help it! Why do you hate me so much? What have I done to you that made you despise me from the first time we met? If that's because I remind you of my father, then that's pretty stupid, because it ain't my fault if he teased you at school! You can't blame me for something that happened before I was born! That's unfair!"

His voice is shaking and he seems to be on the verge of tears. I would almost feel pity for him if I actually didn't find the whole situation funny, in a weird kind of way. I have to suppress a laugh. Yes, that's because he reminds me so much of his father that I despise him, but not exactly for the reason he's got in mind. And I really doubt he'd like to know the truth about his father.

I try my best to remain flinty.

"Here we are again… Your ability to always set yourself as a victim is truly amazing, Potter! It never crossed your mind that I could actually hate you for who and what you are? A mediocre, arrogant, and insolent boy!"

His mouth remains slightly open as if he was about to say something, but no sound comes out. Touché. I could leave him alone after such a crushing victory, but why stop there? I'm only starting to enjoy myself.

"Oh, and an attention-seeker who can't make any potion properly and who dreams of becoming an Auror while his last D.A.D.A test was once again a real disaster," I add hatefully.

I narrow my eyes to see how much my little speech has affected him. He remains silent and his eyes are filled with tears. The pain that washes over his face disgusts me. I hate him for being so easily provoked. I hate him for being unable to control his emotions. I hate him for being so weak. And yet, the small voice inside me tells me that I shouldn't have gone this far, that the boy is not as bad as I want to believe he is, that right now, he looks so fragile I almost want to apologize just to put that cute smile of his back to his face.

Well, at least, I should get some peace for a while. I go back to _The secrets of the darkest arts_ and try to focus on my reading rather than on my remorse when I suddenly hear him stand up noisily.

"Fine! I'm going!" He snaps. "I may be mediocre, arrogant, insolent and whatever you think of me, I'm still a human being with feelings and emotions! But of course, that's beyond you! You're such an insensitive man! So yeah, hate me as much as you want, but you can't stop me from loving you!"

He gasps and his cheeks turn so red he looks like he's going to explode.

I should yell at him for being so cheeky, but this is my turn to remain speechless. I watch him swing his bag over his shoulder and leave the room, slamming the door behind him while my brain slowly registers the words I've just heard.

Harry Potter… In love… With me?

Had I seen Voldemort entering the room in a tutu, I would have been less shocked.

And had it been any other student declaring his undying love for me, it would have been so pathetic it would have cracked me up.

But of all the students, it had to be Harry _fucking_ Potter. The boy who lived. Dumbledore's pet. Voldemort's prey. And the son of James Potter, my first love… Oh, God…

I hear the sweet voice of my bottle of Blishen's Firewhisky calling me from my chambers… It's gonna be a long evening…

* * *

**_Thanks for reading! _**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3.**

_Breakfast, the following day. _

"Does the boy give you trouble again, Severus?"

I come out of my torpor and turn to my right only to see Dumbledore looking at me, his eternal malicious smile plastered on his face. I hate this smile so much, and he knows it. I furrow my brow.

"Whom are you talking about?" I ask innocently.

I know perfectly well that he's talking about Potter. I'm just trying to buy time.

His smile widens. Fucking old bastard.

"The boy you've been staring at for the last ten minutes," he chuckles. "I've heard he was in detention again yesterday. Is there something you'd like to tell me, Severus?"

I nearly choke on my tea. Oh yeah, sure, how about _'Hey, old bat, did you know your own little protégé fantasized about me? Do you think we should get a room together?'_

I put my cup back on its saucer and sigh.

"Since when do I have to justify myself when I give detention?"

"Severus... There's no need to be on the defensive, there was no reproach in what I was saying..."

He's right. Maybe paranoia swept over me, or maybe I drank too much yesterday. Or maybe both. There's no way the old bearded man knows how Potter feels about me anyway, unless... No, the brat would certainly not tell him such a thing, or would he? And what if all that was just a big lie? What if he just wanted to test me?...

"Severus, are you ok?"

"The boy's been impudent again, no big news here," I mumble absently as I watch Potter and his friends leave the Great Hall out of the corner of my eye.

"I see... I can try and speak to him if you want me to," he suggests.

Who does he think he is? The Messiah?

"I certainly don't need your help, Albus."

"As you want... But you should take one of these freshly baked croissants, Severus. They're delicious!"

"I'm not hungry..." I reply, irritably.

"You don't know what you're missing! At least, try to get some sleep at night, you look terrible."

How the hell does he know I've had a sleepless night?

"Thank you for your concern, Albus. But I'm old enough to take care of myself!" I snap, standing up.

His eyes twinkle annoyingly. Dammit, I fucking hate the man! He always makes me feel like I am ten years old. Can't he mind his own business?

"See you later, Severus."

I nod and leave the room. I don't care if the fuddy-duddy notices I'm following his favourite student, I really need to make things clear with Potter.

It doesn't take me long to spot the stupid boy and his two faithful servants at the end of the corridor. I speed up my pace but have a hard time catching up with them. Growing old really sucks, sometimes.

"Potter!" I call out, trying to catch my breath.

He winces and turns around.

"Oh... Professor..."

I guess he is as happy to see me than he would have been in front of a horde of dementors.

"My office. Right now," I order in the most unpleasant tone I can use.

"But..." He protests.

"No 'but' allowed. I need a word with you."

Granger and Weasley exchange a frightened look. Potter sighs resignedly and follows me.

Once in my office, I light the candelabras with a wave of my wand and make sure to close the door behind us.

"Why?" I ask coldly, before he can get a chance to open his mouth.

He giggles nervously.

"Wow, you really did mean _**a**_ word, didn't you?"

I roll my eyes out of impatience.

"Oh... right... No time to use your zygamoticus muscle, huh?"

I repress an amused smile.

"It's zygomaticus, Potter. I appreciate your effort to remember a so-called complicated word I used one week ago but that's definitely expecting too much from your brain."

His mouth curls into a grimace and I feel relieved. All I have to do is treating him the same way I always did so that he doesn't jump to some stupid conclusion, like his little declaration of love affected me more than it should have, and that I haven't been able to think about anything but that since yesterday. Hey, I said it was a stupid conclusion, not the truth, alright?

"So, are you going to answer my question?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Dammit, I shouldn't be the one to feel nervous! So why is my heart beating so fast?

"I don't even know what you're talking about..." He shrugs, his eyes focused on the polish marble floor.

Fine, if he really wants me to refresh his memory, I certainly will.

"I'm talking about your disgusting outpouring of feelings in my classroom yesterday," I sneer.

He clenches his fists, his face flushing red with anger.

"Well, let's forget about it, okay? Just pretend I've never said anything!"

The little twit confesses to me –his teacher!- that he's in love with me, and then he asks me to pretend I haven't heard anything? But he's got a point. This revelation shouldn't have affected me the way it did, and I'd better forget about it, that's true.

"Indeed, your fantasies are none of my concern, Potter_." Liar... "_But may I remind you that you are my student, and I am your teacher. Therefore, you are expected to show me respect, not to chat me up."

He tenses at these words.

"I wasn't chatting –"

"Whatever, Potter! This time, that'll only be thirty points from Gryffindor, but I may be less compliant should you ever speak your heart out to me again in the future."

"Oh, don't worry, Professor! There's no chance I'll ever do it again!" He spits. "Can I leave, now?"

I open the door as a reply. His eyes dart toward me, flashing angrily. He gets out of my office, slamming the door behind him.

Job's a good 'un! The boy is upset, humiliated, furious and everything's back to normal.

So why do I have this heavy feeling in my heart?

* * *

_**Thanks for reading and thanks for your reviews! :)**_

_**And sorry for all the mistakes, but keep in mind that I am French! ;)**_

**Published on January.16 2011**


	4. Chapter 4

**Note**_: In this chapter, I have borrowed sentences from "The Prince's tale" (DH). Besides, I know that the Marvolo Gaunt's ring incident takes place during summer 1996, not in December, but as I said, this story is based on HBP but does not follow exactly the plot of the book. _

_Please keep in mind that I'm French, hence the English mistakes!_

* * *

**CHAPTER 4**

A part of me is hoping that Dumbledore is joking, which would be very inappropriate, while the other part... Well, I can't even tell whether I feel furious, sad, scared, horrified, betrayed, sick... Probably all of this... I tear my eyes from Dumbledore's blackened hand and glare at him. The grave look in his eyes tells me he's being very serious. Something tightens in my throat.

I was already finding it hard to deal with the news the old man sitting in front of me is going to die within a year and that I will probably have to kill him myself, but this... I just can't believe what I've just heard...

"I have spied for you, and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you." I say in a cracked voice, trying my best not to let out all the rage that is boiling inside me. "Now you tell me that you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter?"

I realise I have shouted. At Albus Dumbledore. But he doesn't even blink and it makes me feel even more nervous.

"But this is touching, Severus," he speaks in a soft voice, a serious look on his face, "Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?"

My mouth twitches and I grit my teeth.

"For him?" I shout. "Expecto Patronum!"

A silver deer –the same as James- bursts from the tip of my wand. Dumbledore watches it fly away. Although he may not know that James once kissed me, he's always known how I felt about him. He is a man of intuition. An infallible intuition with that. He turns back to me with eyes filled with tears.

"After all this time?"

I nod.

"Always..."

There is a huge silence during which we are both lost in thoughts, but Dumbledore soon breaks it.

"Severus, I need your help, once again. I want you to give private lessons to Harry. You'll teach him what he should only learn next year, and even more. He is strong, but he needs to become stronger. Much stronger..."

"What's the point if he's going to die, no matter what?" I ask, annoyed.

"Because I still have a task for him. A very complicated and dangerous one. That's why I want him to become more powerful."

"You are disgusting, Albus! Do you even realise what you're saying? You're talking about him as if he was a mere pawn!"

"I understand your anger, but believe me, I do care about Harry. Much more than you think. You'll understand one day that I had no choice. For now, time is running out. I don't know how much I have left, and I don't know how long we can still keep Voldemort away from Harry. This is why I want you to get him prepared, Severus."

"Get him prepared to what? To die?" I yell. "I refuse!"

Dumbledore stares intently at me and my ears become hot.

"This isn't a question, Severus," he says very calmly, "this is an order. I've already told the boy about this. You'll start the lessons during the Christmas holidays. Of course, Harry shall not know the truth. Not yet. I count on you..."

I give him my blackest look and turn around.

"Good evening, Severus!" I hear him say as I leave his office.

I have the feeling that an invisible hand is crushing my heart and I'm fighting for air. I walk briskly through the corridors to my chambers, ignoring McGonagall's greetings. Once in my room, I slam the door behind me and lean against it, panting. I need to calm down, I need time to get over the news... No... I need whisky to try to forget... I summon the bottle and collapse into my armchair...

One gulp.

I am angry. I spent the last fifteen years doing all I could to protect the Potter boy, to try to get rid of the remorse that's been eating me since that dreadful night to no avail because he may have his mother's eyes, I see James whenever I look at him and he is a constant reminder of my faults. All that to learn that the boy has no other choice than die in the end, that there is no other way to get rid of the Dark Lord. As much as I despise the brat, he doesn't deserve that! This is simply unfair! Dumbledore has used me. And he has used the boy.

Another gulp.

I am scared. Why has the old bat put that bloody ring on his finger? What was he thinking? Now his days are counted, and I really doubt Draco will kill him. The boy's not as strong and determinate as he pretends to be, his heart still is too pure. He's just frightened, just like his parents. So what happens next? How am I supposed to keep fighting without Dumbledore to guide me, especially if I have to kill him myself and if all Hogwarts think I am a traitor and a murderer? How?

One more gulp.

I smile bitterly at the irony of the whole situation. In a few days, I'll sit face to face with the boy who confessed his feelings to me two months ago, not knowing his own father is the only person I've ever loved in my life, and as I had no idea how to deal with this, I cowardly pretended he hadn't said anything, and I've acted just the same as before with him, if not a little meaner. And now I have to help him become a more powerful wizard just so that he stays alive long enough to accomplish whatever plan Dumbledore's got for him before he faces his fate and dies. This is pathetic.

The bottle is nearly empty. I take one last sip and wipe my lips with the back of my hand.

I am devastated. I look at the room through the brown glass of the bottle, and it looks all blurry, like everything in my head right now. In a gesture of despair, I throw away the empty bottle with all my strength. It hits the wall with a loud noise and breaks into pieces. I don't feel the slightest relieved. Instead, I bury my head in my hands, and laugh nervously, and cry, all that at the same time... I'm so tired of this life...

* * *

_**Thanks for reading and thanks for your reviews! :)**_

**Published on July.18 2011**


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5. **

Knock on the door. On _my_ door.

"Come in," I say in my sternest voice, a voice that would scare away any first year (and even Longbottom in his sixth year) but that has never impressed Harry Bloody Potter, to my utter despair.

"Good evening, Professor."

A condemned man facing the gallows would have probably sounded more enthusiastic. By the look on his face, I can tell the boy's still mad at me for what happened a few weeks ago.

"Well, are you planning to spend the whole evening in the doorway? You see, Potter, I'm not exactly thrilled to spend extra time with you, so I would appreciate that you hurry up a bit," I say, glaring at him.

"Yeah, well, like I'm happy to be here," he snorts disdainfully, closing the door behind him. "I was supposed to spend Christmas with Ron and Hermione, and I'm stuck with you instead."

I scowl at him. Why on earth do I feel that offended? Blasted boy.

"If you've got a problem with that, Mr Potter, then I suggest you to go to the Headmaster and tell him that," I say bitterly. "Be sure I'd be glad not to waste my time trying to fix your mediocrity."

Ignoring my sarcasm, he shrugs and drops his back-pack on the ground. _My_ ground.

"You know as well as I do that even if I did so, I'd be right back in a matter of minutes. It's not like we have a choice. Whenever he decides something, he always has his way, no matter what we do or say."

I raise an eyebrow in surprise and have to suppress a smile.

"This, Potter, is probably the most insightful thing I've ever heard from you," I smirk.

He rolls his eyes and sits on the sofa. _My_ sofa. Without being invited to. I mentally curse Dumbledore for giving the boy the pass to my private life.

"Nice decoration," he says, looking around him.

"You sound surprised. What did you expect?"

"I don't know... I guess I expected something... more like you..."

Like me? I'm curious now.

"Meaning?" I ask, frowning.

"Austere. Dark. Cold. Inhospitable. Bleak."

Damn brat! Were I not scared of the Dementor's kiss, I would happily cast an Unforgivable curse on him. But I suddenly remember why the boy is here. I replay my latest conversation with Dumbledore and realise that the little bugger will _actually_ die soon. No matter what.

If Potter dies, Voldemort will finally gain immortality. If Voldemort dies, Potter dies anyway. So what's the point about this? What's the point of training him to become stronger if that doesn't prevent him from meeting his tragic fate? Dumbledore can piss off, I'm not doing this. I'd rather snog a mandrake.

"Professor, are you alright?"

His eyes search mine and the look of concern on his delicate features makes things even worse. He looks so much like James right now. James. The man who definitely ruined my sentimental life. Ok, I hated the boy because of James. Because he is the living proof of James' final betrayal. However, I have long learned to hate Potter Junior for his own merits. For being such an arrogant, insolent, attention seeker. Much like James, actually. _Stop_. Still, the boy doesn't deserve such a fate.

"End of the lesson," I say drily.

"Wha..! But we haven't even started yet! Is it because of what I said? If so, then you shouldn't take it that serio..."

"Shut up, Potter!" I cut him off. I feel a sudden urge to get pissed. Again. Potter or not.

Without thinking, I summon a bottle of firewhisky. And two glasses.

"Professor Snape, you're sure you're ok? I don't think it's..."

"Potter! Just shut the hell up and drink!"

* * *

Merlin! What have I done? I was so lost in my thoughts that I haven't noticed that idiot had emptied my bottle. A very fine firewhisky with that. _Very_ expensive. I suppress a sudden impulsion toward violence.

Wait, I am mourning my whisky when there's something much worse going on.

_I. GOT. DUMBLEDORE'S PET DRUNK! _

Fuck it. Kill me now.

Silently composing my will, I make my way to the armchair, and carefully shake his shoulder.

"Potter, wake up!"

He groans but finally opens his eyes to look at me, a silly smile on his face.

"Potter, you must go, it's late!"

"Oh, come on, Severus," he protests with a yawn, "can't I just sleep with you tonight? Well, not like, you know, not with you like... aaaah..."

Has he just called me Severus?

_And shouldn't I be more concerned by the fact he's mentioned unspeakable things involving him, and me... together? _

"Potter!" I shout angrily, shaking his shoulder more vigorously, "Go back to your dormitory! RIGHT. NOW"

"Why so much hate? What have I done to you? Is it a crime to love you?" he mumbles.

My mouth drops open. I've spent the last few weeks trying my best to leave aside that little detail and now he spits it in my face and all my efforts are ruined. I sigh in exasperation, and help him to get back on his feet and make his way to the bed. _My_ bed.

_Azkaban, here I come... _

He falls heavily on the bed, and I sit next to him. Taking a deep breath, I am mentally preparing a moralistic speech when I realize he's already gone back to sleep. I should be yelling at him, but no word escapes my mouth. I, Severus Snape, am just... speechless...

I watch the boy breathe peacefully and absently brush a lock of dark hair away from his eyes. His pale face looks like porcelain and I am stricken by his beauty. It dawns on me that he will never cease to be beautiful, because he'll never get the chance to grow old. His face will never be altered by age or marks of wisdom. Something tightens in my throat. I wish I could erase that scar on his forehead. That scar which sealed his fate...

* * *

_**Thanks for reading, and thank you for your reviews, they always make my day! :) **_

**Published on November.25****th**** 2011**


End file.
